


Thistle and Weeds

by Morvaine



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abandonment, Depression, Drug Addiction, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Postpartum Depression, Unplanned Pregnancy, expect more pairings to eventually show up, lots of heavy issues explored in this please act with caution, minimal comfort (for now)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23276710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvaine/pseuds/Morvaine
Summary: Alyaësse Mahariel of Clan Sabrae was a fool. She thought it would be a walk in the woods, and that she could always turn back. How wrong she was.Now she has lost her love, her home, and forced to leave her child. All to join the Grey Wardens. At least she can try to numb it all away.Now she is banalhan, the blight, and Alyaësse is dead.(story will deal with excessive hurt and angst before the comfort begins. Drug addiction is a recurring theme, please read with caution if you are struggling. Depression is dealt with heavily.  I promise there will eventually be comfort).
Relationships: Female Mahariel/Tamlen (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 2





	1. The Cursed and Blessed child

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my desktop, written 4 years ago! (q u a r a n t i n e ) I have gone through and made some small edits. I estimate I have enough for a few chapters. Expect the style to keep changing.

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Alyaësse was a rambunctious child, always starting fights with Tamlen and Fenarel, only to be dragged away by Marethari for an earful later on. Even in her early adulthood she was always full of life and fight.

She was Saë to her friends, and anyone who called her Aly would regret it later. “Aly is a _shemlen_ name, _my name_ is Alyaësse Mahariel of Clan Sabrae” she would say, daring someone to look down on her for being dalish.

Saë and Tamlen had been friends for most of their lives, Saë was rough around the edges after her parents were gone.

Given how close they were, and the looks they were giving each other, it was only a matter of time before they ran headfirst into love, as they did in all things.

Saë was 16 when they first kissed. The next few years they took slowly, never rushing headlong into anything (very unlike them, but Ashalle saw to it Tamlen had a good talking too. The keeper took care of Saë).

Saë was 20 when they first shared a bed. It was a week after her moons blood, the least fertile time for an elf so she didn’t expect anything to happen. Besides, she and Tamlen were to be married soon.

She was wrong about one thing; something came out of that night.

It took her 6 weeks to notice anything unusual, but she was never regular in her cycle anyway, so she ignored the nudge in the back in her mind. She and Tamlen carried on as normal, hunting and letting Merrill put flowers in their hair.

Then, a week later, Saë got sick. She was unable to keep anything down, so she went to the keeper. Marethari recognized her symptoms immediately, and upon confirming it, told her gently that she was pregnant. There was no guessing as to who the father was.

Tamlen went pale when he heard the news. He was 22, not ready to be a father, and barely settling into his role as an adult in the clan. But he was supportive, and 3 weeks from the day she told him, they were married.

Merril was ecstatic, she loved having children around, and children were in short supply these days. Ashalle swatted Saë’s head when she found out, but was in tears at the thought that she would be a grandmother. “I know your parents would be ecstatic to hear the news. I am so proud of you” Ashalle whispered to her after their small wedding ceremony.

Saë would not be dissuaded from attending to her regular hunter duties, though she promised to leave bears and wolves alone, for once. She was limited to setting traps for small game and focused on the work of butchering the meat and prepping the hides.

It was about 32 weeks after she first discovered her pregnancy, and she had managed to weasel away from master Ilen for a brief walk in the woods.

She heard Tamlen yell as he shot something with his bow, screaming, and then nothing.

She called out to him, and he appeared, telling her this ridiculous story about shemlen and ‘ancient ruins’. But she was desperate for fresh air and time with Tamlen, so they investigated. An innocent mistake, and one she would come to regret.

The ruins were unlike anything she had ever seen, she thought them beautiful. The air unnerved her, and she started getting a bad feeling.

Tamlen insisted he wasn’t afraid of anything, and neither was she, but she urged him to be cautious at least, and to scout ahead.

The living corpses were scary, but there was something here. Something that would change everything the dalish knew about Arlathan, she could feel it in her bones. “Merrill should be here. She would know what to make of all this” she whispered to Tamlen, staring at the statue of Falon’Din.

Tamlen did most of the fighting, with Saë shooting at what they could find. She could hear Marethari berating her non-stop for being in danger, and she was beginning to think her right. But they killed the demon bear and corpses, and pressed on.

Then there was the mirror, it was beautiful. But wrong so so wrong. She tried to tell Tamlen to get away, to leave it, but the words were thick and slow. She saw the fear in his eyes when he looked into the mirror, there was a blinding flash, and a sharp pain in her abdomen. Then, there was nothing.

When she same to in Marethari’s aravel Saë was sore, her blood burned in her veins and her legs were weak. Then she smelt the blood. And saw the rags, but heard no crying, felt no movement in her womb. In a blind panic she tore out of the aravel and tried to run for the ruins, hoping that something would be there.

She got 3 feet before she fell, and Duncan caught her. She struggled before Marethari calmed her, showed her that her da’len was safe, alive, and sleeping.

Saë held her daughter close, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes. She had Tamlen’s eyes. “Where’s Tamlen, keeper? Why is he not here? Was he left in the ruins—” “Saë, I’m sorry. There was only you. It was a miracle that Duncan showed up when he did, drawn by the sounds of a screaming elf. You were incoherent, and it is a miracle she survived.’ Marethari gestured to the baby. “You are cursed. I cannot cure of the darkspawn taint. I have only bought a little time with our magic”.

Saë was in no state to travel to the ruins, she was weak, but insisted she could. She needed to find Tamlen, especially if he was as weak as she. Besides he needed to see their child.

She brought Merrill and Fenarel, not trusting to go alone. They searched everywhere. Saë tried to stop Duncan from destroying the mirror screaming with him not too. After all Tamlen might still be inside.

Hope for his survival died when that mirror was shattered. But still they searched. But Tamlen was gone.

She returned with a heavy heart, and cried in Ashalle’s arms. It was only then that she knew what her parents had done. It was a long, bitter night, but Ashalle let her stay with her.

Saë had lost her love, and now she was losing her only home.

She couldn’t stay for her child, she had lost Tamlen.

Forced to join the Grey Warden’s and serve the shemlen.

She fought it, but Marethari told her she would not let her die when she could prevent it. So she was conscripted. But they at least gave her a few hours to spend with her child, and to bury the memory of Tamlen.

As Saë held her newborn in her arms, exhausted beyond belief, none of that seemed to matter. The blue eyes looking up at her, the dark fuzz on her head, and her own nose staring back at her, she felt at peace. This little miracle—blessed by the creators—had survived all that had torn her apart.

Druas’lan

That was what she would name her. Her blessed daughter.

“Mythal protect your path, ma vhenan” she whispered to her, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t try to hide them as she stepped out of Ashalle’s aravel. Marethari had arranged for Druas’lan to be sent to clan Lavellan, there was a new mother with milk to spare. At least Ashalle had agreed to go with Druas’lan, until Saë returned.

She hugged Merrill and Fenarel, making them promise to look after Druas’lan “...If I do not make it back to you, giver her this.” She took off her wedding necklace and a pair of gloves, the ones Tamlen had made for her, out of the first bear he killed. What a story that was, it made her smile briefly to think of them, running from an angry bear with nothing but one bow and a single dar’misu between them.

She turned to Marethari, crossed her arms and bowed “Ndyha Keeper. Until we meet again”

“Ndyha, Alyaësse. Mythal protect you, and Andruil lead your arrow true.”

She looked at Duncan, her face blank of every emotion “let’s go”

The camp was silent as they left. They were mourning not only for Tamlen, but for Saë as well. For those who leave for the wardens never return.

It took them a week to get to Ostagar from the camp. She didn’t speak to Duncan often, and if she did, she barely remembers it. The taint in her body was singing a song to her, and her blood burned in her veins.

Duncan did what he could to ease the pain, but he was no healer, and there was more than the taint causing her pain.

“How are you holding up…?” “You can call me Banalhan, Saë is no more. I am... alive at least, and so is Druas’lan” “For what it’s worth, I am sorry about your clanmate” Banalhan was quiet. “He was my everything” She choked up and retired to her tent. They spoke no more after that.

When she arrived at Ostagar she was weak, weary, and could not stand dealing with this…Cailin. Blight or no, she would not defer to any human lord. And she said as much, to Duncan’s displeasure.

Duncan directed her to Wynne, the healer “What ails you child?” “I need something for pain.” She managed to grit out. The song was strong here, and she longed to go to it. Wynne must have seen the emptiness in her eyes and handed her a potion, “Try not to use them too much, it can lead to addiction.” She added softly,

When she meant Alistair, she managed to crack a smile at his dry wit, for a shemlen he wasn’t terrible.

She was wary around the others, talking to them minimally, focused on getting the vials and then the scrolls. The wilds were beautiful in their own way, but nothing like the forest.

When she drank from the chalice, she thought she would die. It was so much worse than the taint from earlier. She blacked out, viewing the face of the archdemon, terrible in its beauty. When she awoke, it was not Falon’Din who greeted her, but Duncan in his stead. Close enough, the life of a warden was a death sentence in its own.

She fought through the tower, believing that if she could get through Ostagar she could return to her clan, faking her death here. That hope was dashed when an arrow pierced her shoulder and leg, causing her to fall and hit her head on the cobble stones below. If she wasn’t dead before, she was now.


	2. At the edge of the wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She survived Ostagar. Now, she must kill an archdemon to save this land, and possibly the world. If it wasn't for the dalish that live here, she would have let this whole place burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited heavily, notice the style changes! Banalhan does have a personality, stunted as it is right now. Expect another update this weekend.

Waking up in Flemeth’s hut was a shock. Banalhan did not expect to survive the battle. She looked around for her rescuer.

“Ahh, you’re awake. Mother rescued you two wardens from Ostagar…. You were the only survivors. I am Morrigan, I have been healing you.”

“Banalhan. So, Alistair survived then? I suppose that’s better than no one…Tell me, is that bastard Loghain still alive?”

“Yes, from what I gather he is.” Morrigan spoke softly now, keeping her voice quiet “I was tending your wounds, when I noticed that you were…” she gestured emphatically to her chest “...leaking. Are you pregnant?” Banalhan could hear the quiet concern, as wardens could pass on the taint, without the warden ‘cure’.

“…no. Not anymore.” Banalhan could hear Morrigan awaiting an explanation, but she owed the woman nothing. “I need to go speak to Alistair, thank you for your help” she said rather curtly, pushing herself out of bed. _Since Alistair is still alive, guess that’s another plan to leave dashed to dust…_.

“You know, I never got your name. Funny things names--” “I am Banalhan” The older woman, presumably Morrigan’s mother interrupted any further conversation “An interesting choice that one. Well come now, does poor Flemeth get any thanks?” “Ir abelas, ma serranas Flemeth. Without you we would both be dead. Flemeth nodded her head in acknowledgement. _So, she understands elvhen, or at least encountered some dalish. No flat-ears would live out here…_ Banalhan let Alistair lead the conversation, something about this woman was familiar...

* * *

_“Come on Merril! We’re going to miss dinner if we pick anymore flowers!”_ A young Saë stomped her foot. “You know hahren won’t tell it again for a month if we wait” she groaned as Merril continued to pick flowers. “there, that was the last one Saë. Let’s go!” Merril and Saë raced back to camp, and quickly shuffled behind the other children just as ilen began his story “Listen close children, this is a story you cannot ignore. Not far from here, deep in the Kocari Wilds lives Asha’bellanar. Some say she is a witch, cursed to live forever, this is her story…”

* * *

“Morrigan, you will go with them.” “What? Mother—” “No arguing Morrigan, you must assist them” This sudden change in conversation was enough to jolt Banalhan from her memory. She stared wide-eyed at flemeth, then quickly regained composure. If she was Asha’bellanar, that means she must be powerful and it’s better not to anger her.

Banalhan turned to Morrigan “We would welcome your help, Morrigan.” She turned to flemeth “thank you, Asha’bellanar for saving us and entrusting us with your daughter’s safety” she gave a short bow.

“Ohoho, So the stories are still told then. Return her to me in one piece when this is over. Darkspawn are a threat to us all, as you must know Banalhan.” 

Morrigan had little to grab, and soon they were ready. While Alistair may be uncomfortable around the apostate, having a mage around was never a bad thig. _Besides, maybe she can make some healing potions...I still ache from the birth…_

She let Alistair led and spoke in low tones to Morrigan “Morrigan, do you have anything for pain? I am still sore” she gestured to her abdomen. “I do not. If any of your stiches have pulled, I can put them back. Elfroot may help, but I can’t prepare it.” She replied. “I understand” Banalhan nodded, and kept walking _well, there goes that. I hope she can fight at least._

On the way to lothering Ban adopted a mabari, naming him Fen’Harel. She could hear Marethari lecturing her on not disrespecting their culture and smiled. She walks with Fen’Harel now, thrown from her clan to live among wolves, so it was fitting that the beast would bear his name. Besides, it would piss off the locals hearing their ‘noble breed bearing a knife-ear name’.

That evening, Banalhan sat in her tent. They were a day away from Lothering, or so she was told. She caught her reflection in a cup that Alistair had left in there, full of some disgusting stew. _Honestly who let that man cook?_ _I’ll have to toss this out…_ She had always kept her hair long, but that was how Saë kept it. She was Saë no longer. She was Banalhan now. The taint, the blight, all of its corruption. She took out her dar’misu and methodically cut it shorter. It wasn’t pretty, but it served its purpose and was out her face. She took her shift alone, and ate some hard bread, tossing her hair into the fire and watching it burn.

When they set out the next morning, Alistair noticed “Not that I’m judging or anything, but why cut your hair?” She spared him a glance “It was getting in my way.” “…. I see”. Morrigan nodded in approval “It’s a practical choice, Banalhan”.

Alistair was beginning to suspect that Ban did not like him very much.

Ban on the other hand was simply keeping her distance. She was wary of humans in general, and it was only circumstance that brought them together. They simply needed to work together to kill the archdemon, and then they would separate.

In Lothering, they picked up some food and other supplies. Banalhan also picked up something for pain from the apothecary. The shopkeep said something about elfroot, crystal grace, and just a hint of deathroot “Now, only a spoonful or you’ll be in a stupor for days. You do have the money” Ban nodded and put the coins down on the counter, letting the clink answer the shopkeep‘s question. She bought 4 large bottles. No telling when she’d have a chance to refill, and these ought to last for bit.

They also acquired two new companions in lothering. _We’ll need all the help we can get…. just have to stay together until the archdemon is dead…_ she didn’t voice the lingering thought that she may be dead by then too.

Ban liked Sten. Very practical, and got straight to the point, even if he didn’t understand that you couldn’t simply go face an archdemon without an army. _Practical, a trained fighter who can take orders._

As for Leliana, they didn’t get along so well. Ban found her obsessions with pretty things obnoxious, and her voice grated on her nerves. Not to mention _she was an Andrastian sister. From fucking Orlais. Dread Wolf take me…._


	3. Of course it can get worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Campfire stories, mage towers, and abominations oh my!

“So Banhalan—“Morrigan started, as everyone was eating around camp”It’s Banalhan. Call me Ban if you can’t pronounce it” she said shortly. There was an awkward pause “…As a dalish, you must have many stories to share about the locale.” Ban did, but she was not about to start sharing all their history with shemlen…But the night was dark, and moonless. And she had heard wolves earlier. Perhaps there was one story she would share.

“I have a few, but I am no Hah’ren.” “I would love to hear them, In Orlais we have very few Dalish stories, most of them folktales about how the wild elves steal children” Leliana piped in. Ban rolled her eyes, _Of course that’s what the Orlesians tell eachother. Easier to justify the Marches._

“Well, long ago there was a young elf by the name of Alnifenen, they were a great hunter. Alnifenen was walking one night, when he came across an injured wolf. ‘help me and I will make sure that no wolf ever harms you’ but Alnifenen feared the wolf, knowing that it could be the Dread Wolf Fen’Harel in disguise. So he killed the beast, unaware that it was a mother and her pups were watching. He returned to his clan carrying the wolf on his back, and made armor out of her pelt, showing how he had bested Fen’Harel.”

“A few years later, he was patrolling the same path when he heard howls. They were at a distance, but in preparation he drew his dar’misu anyway—“

Alistair interrupted “What’s a dar misu?” Ban drew her knife and showed him, the firelight glinting off of it “It’s a Dalish style of dagger.” She briefly explained.

“Anyways, Alnifenen still held fear of the wolves, so he picked up the pace and continued back to his clan, the howls were drawing nearer. As a branch snapped near him, he was overcome with dread and he panicked, running through the woods, trying to get back to his clan. But in his panic, he got lost. The woods seemed to press in on him, and what was a friendly familiar forest now seemed strange and foreboding, and the howls were close now.

In the distance, a wolf howled. Alistair turned his head to quickly, nearly drawing his sword, before he heard Morrigan snicker at his fright. Ban, to everyone’s amazement cracked a smile. _No great hunter this one._

“Alnifenen ran, trying to get away from those howls. All he could think of was Fen’Harel and the wolf he had killed. It was then that his armor snagged a branch and he fell, catching his leg in such a way as to break it. As that moment he heard a low growl, and knew the wolves had found him.”

“He looked up and paled, it was the wolf he had killed those years ago. The great yellow eyes glared at him. He pleaded with the wolf, noticing more surrounding him ‘please, spare me and I will make sure no human hunts your kind ever again’ The wolves laughed at him ‘You ask for mercy when you gave none. Our mother is dead because of you.’ The wolves lunged at him, and Alifenen was no more.”

“ As his screams echoed through the woods, the other hunters raced towards where he was, but when they got there, all that was left was his wolf armor. Legend has it that the wolves spared his life, granting him their shape and cursing him to limp through the woods forever, asking people to grant him the mercy he seeks. Fen’Harel cursed him for causing his kin pain and suffering when there was no cause. That is why the dalish no longer hunt the wolves.”

“But it’s just a story, a legend right?” Alistair asked, his voice noticeably a little higher pitched.

Ban grinned, her eyes reflecting in the firelight. A stark reminder that she was an elf after all. “Not all of it. The woods he was wandering through were these very ones. Alnifenen was the reason my clan no longer camps in this area; the wolves are particularly vicious here.”

“Don’t tease the poor boy, look he’s quivering in his boots” Leliana joked

“Hey! I’m not quivering, it’s just cold outside” Alistair protested

“Don’t worry Alistair, you’re more likely to die of food poisoning before a wolf kills you.” Morrigan added

“More like you’ll eat me in my sleep” Alistair muttered before retiring to his tent.

“I do not understand the story, why was this elf afraid of wild dogs” Sten asked

“Wolves are bigger and more vicious. The Dread Wolf Fen’harel, the trickster of our gods, takes the form of a wolf” Ban explained.

“I see.” Ban was not so sure Sten understood, but it was hard to convince him.

“Thank you for sharing your story Banalhan” Leliana was careful to pronounce her name correctly. Ban gave a nod of acceptance.

* * *

The next morning, she and Alistair argued over where to go next.

“Redcliffe castle is right there!, and Arl Eamon will help us” He stated  
“I understand that, but he has no obligation to help the wardens, we should focus on getting the treaties fulfilled first.” Ban argued back

“Do we really need mages though? And the circle is so….stuffy” He complained

“Alistair, the grey wardens accept all the help they can get. Magic is not evil, contrary to what the chantry wants you to believe” She snapped, starting to lose her patience.

“All right, fine. Let’s just hope we all return as normal humans…” He grumbled.

Ban gathered up Sten, Alistair, and her mabari. She and Alistair would go in first to argue with the enchanters. Fen’Harel and Sten would serve as lookouts for Loghain’s men. Leliana and Morrigan would stay behind, while a chantry sister might be useful for negotiation, Ban didn’t want to anger the mages anymore. Taking an apostate into the tower was asking for trouble, despite how much Ban liked her she didn’t want to jeopardize anything with the mages.

The docks held the first sign of trouble. The circle had closed access to the tower to everyone, even the Wardens. Somehow, Sten managed to bribe the ferryman with cookies “Where did you get the cookies Sten” Ban asked confused “They were left out, near a window” He replied, clearly not caring if they were stolen. _So he has a sweet tooth. Huh, who would’ve thought._

When they arrived at the circle, it was complete chaos. Ban had heard about circles before, in whispered voices of mages locked away in a dungeon, forbidden to use their gift freely. She reviled the very notion, thinking of Merril. She had no sympathy for Mage-hunters. _Well at least saving the mages will make it harder for them to argue against the treaties._

She didn’t recognize Wynne at first, never getting her name, but Wynne Recognized her. She briefly remembered her advice on pain potions, but she had been mostly careful so far. _Not like I’ve had time to truly rest and heal, nor can we afford such a long break._

“I will help the mages; will the children be all right?” she asked “They will be fine. Petra will look after them” Wynne replied, joining them for the fight.

So they went through the circle, killing abominations and demons. Looting what they can. It was diffciult work, but thankfully Wynne was a healer.

Ban paused when she picked a chest and grabbed a strange black book. “These are Irving’s personal things you know. Careful with that book! Who knows what curses may lie on it, a Templar took it from a dangerous apostate called Flemeth” Wynne chastised. “Then I’m sure flemeth will like to have it back, besides we can’t leave it her for Uldred” Ban relied, taking the book anyway.

The second floor was full of interesting goodies. Some apprentice notes about everything and getting more information from Owain about Uldred and this litany of Adralla. They quickly dealt with the Blood Mages blocking the rest of the tower, but one begged for mercy.

“You can join the wardens. You will find no one else willing to take you in. Fight the darkspawn, or die here. You know there is no other way for a blood mage to live.” _Can’t blame her for falling in this crowd, difficult to live under a templar's constant watch_. Ban could see Alistair and Wynne disapproving, but Ban knew blood mages had skillsets they didn’t. The girl nodded in acceptance “When the tower is free, will we take you. Live that long and you can join.” She ran off, presumably to hide.

“But—” Alistair and Wynne started

“We don’t have the luxury of choosing the best to fight the darkspawn. Wardens have always taken those with skill, and she clearly had enough to survive this mess. Let’s keep moving” Ban stated firmly, pressing onwards. It was silent after that, and they pressed forward to the third floor.

The third floor held more demons of course, but also was the point those apprentices marked in their notes. Ban asked Wynne about it “hmm, I’d be careful, looks like something to summon something, likely a demon.” ‘Well, that’ll be one less demon” Ban stated, going ahead to finish their work. She had been collecting the various items mentioned in their notes. The fight with the demon was difficult, but they managed ot take it down, getting a peculiar sword of it as well. It was too big for Ban, so she gave it to Alistair. “I think this is a good place to recover. Demon’s gone and the floor’s below are cleared. Were almost to the top, I expect Uldred will be difficult.” Ban said, leaning against a statue.

Ban took this break to clean the blood off her armor and sword. Sten sat next to her doing the same. “Its good to keep the sword sharp.” He stated, approving of this course of action. Ban nodded her head and handed him a sweet she had taken from an apprentice’s locker. She wasn’t sure Sten could smile, but she swears she saw it in his eyes. Once that was done, she streteched, walking over to where Alistair and Wynne were eating together. “All right, time to move on now. Do you have enough lyrium Wynne? I have some extra in my pack” Ban asked “I’m all good dear, let’s move.”

The fourth floor was more difficult then the others. _Clearly, we’re getting closer to Uldred_ Ban thought as she cut down another corpse, summoned by a Desire demon who tried to debate them. While ban had sympathy for the mages, she was not about to start debating ethics with demons.

The blood mage fight was hard. So much magic was flying, Ban had a hard time keeping track of it all. A fireball hit her, sending here back and she rolled to keep the flames off. “Ban!” Alistair shouted, seeing her go flying back. He killed the mage and started to rush over. Ban rolled the flames off of her and lay dazed for a moment. The burning pain was clear in her mind, and it was difficult to think of much else. Alistair and Sten were swarmed by the other possessed templar’s and Wynne had her hands full with countering the blood mage. After a moment ban managed to drink a healing potion, and launched herself back into the fray, killing a templar who though to sneak up on her. “Alistair I’m fine” She barely croaked out, her voice hoarse. She slammed her dagger into the back of the blood mage, ending the possession.

Ban lay against the cool stone. “Hand me the burn cream Alistair, before this gets infected anymore” She rasped. She was burnt the most on her hands and face. _Thank gods for sturdy armor, and the fact that the fireball was w cast by a weaker mage. I’d be cooked otherwise._ “Wynne help me wrap this, and heal what you can please, we still have to kill Uldred” She asked. Wynne obliged her, making so she could move around at least.

The was one more room on this floor to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the month of april was a blur, and I had to finish classes so I could graduate \o/


End file.
